Murtagh's Capture
by RisingTruth
Summary: This is my attempt to illustrate how Murtagh was captured and converted. Part I
1. Chapter 1

Murtagh struggled against his captors, grunting and fighting as his captors dragged him on. The Varden's precious stronghold had been breached by Galbatorix's army, forcing the Varden to fight for life, and their beliefs. But in the end, the Varden had managed to repel the army, aided by Eragon and Saphira.

As Murtagh had watched Saphira dash through the crystal and shower the air with crystal dust, two pair of hands had suddenly wrestled him to the ground, pinning him down. Even his training, his strength, and his skill could not help him. A rough bag was shoved over his head, and he had been lifted into the air, taken away. No one of the Varden saw him taken away on the shoulders of the minions of Galbatorix.

Murtagh had no doubt his captors were stray soldiers of Galbatorix's army, left behind in the battle. He knew, almost too personally, the capabilities of the King's soldiers. However, these far surpassed their strength and cunning. To have wrestled and pinned him was a great achievement in itself, but to have stealthy captured him, that was the greatest of feats.

_ This is madness! _Murtagh thought, _these must be the elite of his army…The way they move must have been trained only by the most powerful. Even now, I can not hear where they tread._

The background itself was silent. Murtagh saw not only darkness, but heard nothing as well. Their were no birds or the rustle of trees in the wind. It was a strange, eerie situation.

Suddenly, Murtagh heard a cry shatter the stillness of the air. Instinctively, Murtagh flexed his muscles, only to find a sharp restraint on his limbs. Murtagh knew that they were ropes, possibly made from leather, judging by its texture. Slowly, Murtagh pulled on the ropes, testing it. But alas, he would have had a better chance moving a stone. When he tested his feet, pulling them up, something, perhaps a rope yanked his feet back. On the shoulder of the captor, he could feel the captor's feet moving, propelling them forward. Nonetheless, that was all Murtagh could perceive of the captors - their breath, their footfalls, all were silent.

Another shrill cry shattered the air. It echoed around him, resonating from an unknown direction. The cry was different than before, harsher, shriller, and infinitely cold. Another cry pierced the air, and Murtagh screamed out loud in pain - such was the agony of the cries. Murtagh suddenly felt a shift in the air and ducked, but too late. A blunt object crushed his head, sending an excruciating bolt of pain running through his neck. In the next instant, Murtagh was thrown off the captor's shoulder onto the ground. He still could not see where he was, but survival instincts once again controlled his movement.

Murtagh bolted up, but in reply, his captors used the ropes to stretch his arms and legs, preventing him from moving. He could feel four ropes, towing him from four different directions.

_ There must be at least four captors, _Murtagh thought, _but_ _how can this be? Four captors captured me without me being aware. Impossible! This is…_

The ring of a blade silenced him. Murtagh fell silent in his mind, waiting for the next move. A breath of air passed by him, and the sack fell off, sliced into five pieces. A pair of feet appeared before him, clothed in rough leather shoes and black trousers. As Murtagh lifted his head up to peek at the captor, the captor stepped forth and slammed his head into the ground.

Leaning toward his ear, the captor whispered, "Do not attempt to ressisst…"

Murtagh's eyes grew wide as recognition dawned upon him. The drawl of the 's', and the chilling voice…he had been captured by the Ra'zac. It made perfect sense. Only they had the power and cunning to capture him alive. Yet, it did not make sense. There had been only two Ra'zac when he and Eragon had encountered them. If there were more, there must be a parent breeding more hunters of men. A mixture of fear and confusion filled Murtagh; Galbatorix had more allies than they had known.

The Ra'zac spoke once more, "We will bind you to our sssteed, and bring you to Galbatorix…He hasss been waiting for you. It isss time for you to take your father'sss role…"

"No!" Murtagh cried out. He would not become the traitor his father was, never.

The Ra'zac chuckled coldly. "You have no choice…Now sssleep…"

The Ra'zac swiftly clubbed him over the head. Blackness crept into the edges of Murtagh's vision, as his eyes drooped and closed.

"Go now, fly to Galbatorix…"


	2. Chapter 2

_This story begins after Murtagh has been carried away in Chapter 1._

Murtagh flew across the land, speeding faster than any animal could run. The land before him blurred between brown of the earth and green of the tree, such was the speed of his captor.

He could not see his captor, as he had been bound facing the earth, cast away from the sky. At first, Murtagh was terrified, having awoken to find himself a thousand feet in air. Having never flown before, even around Eragon, he could not at once recall what was happening. However, as he heard the flap of wings, and saw the faintest clouds below him, realization struck him - he was flying.

Before he could control himself, Murtagh screamed in fear, struggling and kicking. The reaction was instinctive, without thought. He drew his muscles taught, but found he could not move. As he had looked at his arms and body, he found thick black ropes which bound him to his captor, whatever it may be. His legs had been draw around his body, enclosed in the rope.

As the last of the unwanted sleep left him, he could feel his legs excruciatingly cramped. His muscles yearned to free themselves, but they could not and he endured.

" "

The Varden was celebrating their victory, but it was short lived. The damage done had been severe, and their secret stronghold was decimated, destroyed, and revealed. The Varden had to muster their forces and find a new route of attack, a new way in which to hide and ponder their next moves.

Nasuada's father watched the ruins of his stronghold and grimaced. They had held their secret fort for so many years. For a while, they had believed they could win, plotting against Galbatorix. He had actually believed they could have defeated Galbatorix sitting in a mountain, in a fool's security. Now he realized the time of action had come. The catalyst known as Eragon, that called himself the last Dragon Rider, has pushed actions forward.

He had blamed Eragon earlier for his fort's decimation, but as he looked back, he realized it was his own fault. He had believed that the Varden was invulnerable, and it was his fault for the lack of preparation. The Dragon Rider could only be a good thing, an aide in the war for freedom, unless he should fall as so many before him have…

His thoughts trailed to Eragon's mysterious partner, the son of…

But no, Eragon had confirmed his loyalty, but nevertheless…He felt that Eragon's companion, Murtagh, concealed more than they knew, more then even the Twins could divulge. After all, not all evils can be erased – erase one and another would arise in its place.

As he thought about it, a thought occurred to him. Where had Murtagh gone? Of course, the battle was only just finished; he may still be in the battlegrounds. Yet, it was odd. The Twins had given them no support, and he had not seen Murtagh in the battle.

Suddenly, a horn sounded, startling him from his reverie. It was the horn that sounded only during battle, but the battle was indubitably over. _Imbecile_, he thought. As he turned to glimpse the entrance toward the mountain entrance, a faint glimmer caught his eye, and as he looked ahead, fear washed over him.

Another parade of Galbatorix's minions marched forth, fast. He drew his sword and prepared for the fight. In his mind, he knew this fight would be his last. The Dragon Rider was nowhere to be seen, and his soldiers were gone. This was the last stand.

_Nasuada, _he thought, _lead the Varden well…_

" "

The flight had been long, and night had dawned, but at long last, Murtagh arrived. He did not know where he was, but he could feel solid earth once more, and the warmth of the ground. In a whirl of flapping, his captor flew off, possibly. Murtagh did not know.

The ropes around him suddenly dissolved. In an instant, Murtagh leapt up and stood. He could feel his leg muscles slowly stretching, unknotting the tangle of muscle. He stretched, pulling his limbs as far apart as he could. The cramp began to fade, and Murtagh quickly examined his surroundings, still wary of attack.

Raising his head, Murtagh found himself on a cliff, looking out a plain of land. He stared at the cliff he stood upon, and frowned. The cliff was not of natural means, but polished and smooth. The smooth surface shone like satin, reflecting the blackness of the night. Gazing upward, Murtagh could not see any stars. The darkness of night was absolute, veiling even the light of stars.

Murtagh heard a rustle behind him and whipped around, but he saw nothing. Only an enormous mountain greeted his gaze. About 100 paces before him, the cliff lay perpendicular to the mountain wall, which seemed to stretch into infinity. Murtagh felt himself shrinking, diminishing in size and strength. It was a strange feeling, as if the mountain was actually drawing the willpower from him.

Suddenly, Murtagh felt an inexorable force draw him. The Fisherman had thrown his reel and dragged Murtagh in. In an instant, Murtagh realized where he was, and fear burst inside him.

Before he could ponder further, he was flung forward plunging into the mountain. Without thinking, he braced himself for collision, only to find the mountain give way. Murtagh plunged through without resistance and fell to the ground, hard. Pain jolted his senses.

"Murtagh…" a voice spoke, "you have come at last…"

Murtagh flung around, fearing the voice he heard. Before him stood the man he feared the most, the man whose voice he dreaded at night.

The man was too horrendous to describe. The raw power that emanated from him burned Murtagh's eyes. The sheer force, with which he gazed into Murtagh's mind frightened Murtagh, yet pulled him somehow. The feeling frightened him. Another wave of fear crashed into him.

Galbatorix stood before him.

"Oh, Murtagh, will you not look at me? I am nearly your uncle, am I not?" Galbatorix said.

Murtagh did not look, but turned away even farther. He feared for more than his life.

Galbatorix threw away the façade of benevolence. A sneer grew on his face as he said, "Obey me! Get up!"

Suddenly, Murtagh felt his body snap back and lift into the air. He turned to see Galbatorix with his hand out. Murtagh knew at once what it was – magic. He had seen Eragon perform magic, but never this kind. He knew to lift someone required tremendous energy, and yet, Galbatorix lifted him without exertion. When he was turned completely around, Galbatorix released his hold, letting Murtagh fall to the ground. Murtagh coughed as dust blew in his nose.

_I will _kill _you when I get the chance…_Murtagh thought, anger clouding his mind.

Galbatorix let out a cold chuckle. "But you shall not get the chance, you see? And even if you should…I can not die."

_He can read one's mind, not even Eragon could do it. Imposs-_

"Impossible?" Galbatorix questioned. "Oh, Murtagh, it is beyond possible. And you, you too can learn how. More than you could ever learn from Eragon or his foolish mentor, Brom."

"What?" Murtagh replied. "What do you mean?"

For a second, Murtagh frowned, and then realization dawned.

"Never! I will NEVER fight for you!" Murtagh cried out. Murtagh thought he saw Galbatorix smirk.

"I fear you have no choice…but come," Galbatorix said, "let's talk of this another day. Your mind is weary, and can not grasp logic even if I fed it to you in a spoon. I will see you tomorrow." He gestured to a table full of food. "There is food if you would like, and beware – Galbatorix's fortress can not be escaped."

Galbatorix stared at Murtagh for one last moment and disappeared.

Murtagh glanced at the food, looking where Galbatorix had stood. Murtagh's eyes narrowed, looking for some trap; however, he found none. Looking at the food, Murtagh felt a rumble from his stomach interrupt his thoughts. Whatever happened, he had to eat. And then, without reluctance, Murtagh sat at the table and tore into the food, tearing at succulent meat. A dribble of juice fell from his mouth, but he did not care. Hunger overpowered his mind.

In Galbatorix's chambers, Galbatorix spoke to two figures. "You shall engage him tomorrow. When the sun rises, wake him up."

One of the figures spoke back. "Master, may we-"

"Yes," Galbatorix replied, "do whatever you would like. But remember, if you kill him, you're lives shall pay for his death a thousand times over."

The two figures visibly shook at this threat. "Y-yes master. W-we ob-obey."

"Then it is done." Galbatorix disappeared once more, traversing to wherever he would go.

The two figures smiled to each other. "Brother, do you know what I think?"

"What, brother?"

"I think our time has begun. With Murtagh on our side, Galbatorix will be unstoppable, and we shall be at his side. His side!"

The Twins laughed, and wondered at their future power.


	3. Chapter 3

_Be warned, this chapter does not contain much action, but outlines Murtagh's betrayal, if one must call it such._

Murtagh jolted in shock, shaken by a sudden blast that shattered his sleep.

Last that he could recall he had been dining on Galbatorix's food, only to have fallen asleep soon after.

_Treachery! _he thought, _Galbatorix must have poisoned the food…_

"Oh no, he has no intention of poisoning you," a voice said, "You were merely tired, which is understandable."

Murtagh narrowed his eyes. The voice was familiar, but he could not quite grasp who it belonged to. Quickly, Murtagh turned to look at the speaker. A wave of recognition and understanding passed over him.

"Surprised to see me, are we?" the Twins spoke.

At the moment he had entered the Varden, Murtagh had felt the Twins were evil. He had felt that they held nothing for the Varden, only the power the Varden possessed.

"You!" Murtagh spoke. "You were responsible for the battle. You led Galbatorix's forces to the Varden…"

"Well observed, but-"

"Silence, you imbeciles! You do not deserve to live. You hold nothing for honor, only for power. I see it in your eyes; you discovered that Galbatorix was a stronger ally, one who could grant you more power, so you betrayed the Varden!"

"Do not dare silence us…"

The Twins suddenly sent a beam of light Murtagh, throwing him against the wall, crushing him.

"Our power far surpasses your mere physical strength. I suggest you obey us."

Murtagh's face fluttered between expressions of anger and surprise. His instinct urged him to pounce on the Twins and beat them with his fists until they could not even breathe for air. However, logic reminded him that he would not win, and so he held his ground.

"Much better," the Twins said, "Galbatorix has sent us to instruct you in 'magic', a term which he does not like to use. But first, he requests that you obey his will and fight with him, against the Varden."

Murtagh almost laughed at the frankness of the suggestions. "Do you fools believe I will merely obey him? I will never fight for him. Never!"

"Come Murtagh, there's no-"

"Enough, I will take care of this."

Murtagh whipped around to view the speaker. Galbatorix had come again, just as he had promised. The Twins quickly stepped away and disappeared.

"I believe you dined well, Murtagh?" Galbatorix asked. "And if you should wonder, I did not poison the food. Of course, you do not trust a word I should say. That is, for now."

"You are correct, and I shall never trust it."

"Such malice, Murtagh. What have I done to you?"

"You-you destroyed my home. Why, why was I born to such agony?"

"Ah, so that is what burns inside of you. I have heard of Morzan's malice towards his son, perhaps it was true. I am sorry Eragon, he was a good friend before his position of power grew too much for him."

Murtagh's eyes stretched in surprise, then narrowed in consternation.

_Galbatorix is treating my father as if he were a friend, a good friend. He even seems so…No, he is playing mind games with me, trying to get to me._

"What I speak is the truth Murtagh."

Murtagh had forgotten he could read his thoughts. He glared at Murtagh.

"Forgive me Murtagh, but your thoughts pierce like arrows. Overtime, I may teach you to isolate your thoughts, but not now. Murtagh, your father-"

"My father cared nothing for me. Selena was merely his servant, a whim of his. There was no true love, nothing. He hated me. Look!"

Murtagh tore off his shirt, exposing the massive scar that stretched the entirety of his back.

"This is what your _good_ friend did to me."

Suddenly, Galbatorix flinched in anger and gripped Murtagh in magic. However, as quickly as he had reacted, Galbatorix released Murtagh.

"Never mock Morzan. He has remained a friend to me for many, many years. Alas, I am sorry to see what he has done in his old age. It is a pity. He really loved Selena, you realize. Perhaps her despise of him led to more anger."

"Why?"

Galbatorix cocked his head. "I do not understand your question…"

"Why are you being so-so human? You seem to express feelings which, which you just _can't _possibly do!"

"Why, because I am King? Murtagh, your ignorance is unworthy of you. Do you truly believe the filth that the Varden has taught you? The taints and lies of those who remain loyal to the 'Dragon Riders'?

"No, Murtagh, I am not emotionless no evil. I believe in revolution and a change. Tell me, how well did you know the Dragon Riders of old?"

"I did not. But they were far better than you!"

"Do not be so rash, so easy to assume, Murtagh. They were in fact worse than I was. They were a bunch of old men, foolish old men. As power tainted them, they grew more elitist. When I lost my dear Dragon, they banished me from them."

"Now I know why you despise the Dragon Riders. You hold the grudge that they took your Dragon away. But they did not!" Murtagh walked closer to Galbatorix, anger burning within him.

"No," Galbatorix said, moving closer, "that was only a portion of the problem. The Dragon's themselves sensed something wrong with their partners. I spoke with many of them."

"But, but why would everyone speak ill of you? If you have done so much good, why?"

"Murtagh, I have not claimed to have begun everything anew. There are people who favor my rule, but also those of old who despise it. The place from where Eragon yields, Carvahall, despises me for the harsh taxes I impose. But it is necessary, and their grudge is biased."

"Why, taxing them does not bring relief."

"My dear Murtagh, Eragon has filled you with lies. Has he never told you the proposals I make to those small villages? Where do you think taxes are used? I use them to help better the villages. While the Dragon Riders let the poor villages of old to rot and decay, I have let them flourish and grow equal to the great cities."

"But they have not." Murtagh sneered.

"No, they have not. But that is not my fault. Why do you believe the great cities flourish more and more, and favor my rule? Is it because I pay the lords? Yes, it is. I pay the lords so that their cities can thrive!" Galbatorix spoke and pounded the table nearby.

"The foolish villages," he said, "cling to the bias of old, believing I am a harbinger of evil. I am not. I offered to rebuild many small villages, to give them money."

"But why kill them? Why kill them when they can not pay the tax?"

"It is not my fault. Had they accepted my money, they would have flourished with the tools necessary to pay off my measly tax and so much more! But no, the more they rebel, the more they grow poor. In the end, I am forced to kill them, or my kingdom shall suffer!"

"You mean, you have actually offered them…but they refused."

"Yes," Galbatorix said, approaching closer, "they refused! Tell me, why do you believe I am evil?"

"You have slaughtered thousands. You have destroyed all that is good by killing the Dragon Riders. You have turned your kingdom into a realm of pain. You have destroyed my life!" Murtagh stood ground, panting in anger and exertion.

Galbatorix sighed. "I have slaughtered only when I sense a rebellion will harm my kingdom. And I have told you of the Dragon Riders. They did not care for the land, or their subjects or their friends.

"My former instructor was a dear friend of mine. But he was the one to betray _me_. Have you ever wondered how my Dragon died? I have heard of Oromis, who still lives, tell people of my venture in the Urgals, where my Dragon died. But oh, did you know, Murtagh, they sent me there! My friends and I were ordered to go to the Urgals. I had achieved the rank of Dragon Rider, but my friends were yet to do so…They died because we were sent on the mission! I was ordered to protect them, but the ignorant council did not monitor the activity of the Urgals. When we were ambushed, I had a set a perimeter of magic, to tell us of intruders. It was weak, but enough that an Urgal could not dispel it. Little did I know, a mage among them destroyed our shield…I was wrong to assume such a thing, but did the council warn me of mages? No! It is their job to monitor the land, and they did not!"

"As for my kingdom, it is not in pain. If you should look at every rebellion that I was forced to put down as detrimental, then you should only live in terror. But look to the cities that flourish. The people of the land only care for what I have done wrong, and spread their lies… But have you heard of how I controlled the lands so that no Urgals or such would mindlessly sack villages, of how I have made the cities flourish, of how I offered the villages protection, only to have them refute it and blame it on me? No! No… you haven't. But you Murtagh, you have.

"Your life was not born to suffering. You are young, Murtagh. The first few years of your life may have been painful, but they were nothing compared to mine. My kingdom had fallen, and at an early age, I was separated and isolated for the Riders damned training. The friends I had were destroyed by the Rider's ignorance. Murtagh, you have wandered aimlessly for years, searching for a purpose. And now, I give you a purpose!

"Side with me, and we shall correct all that is wrong. Your life shall achieve purpose, and you may help me achieve utopia. The land can not suffer anymore. The Varden and their lies must be stopped! They have framed me as their enemy, but if they should merely listen to me and embrace my idea, I would never kill them. You, Murtagh, having a strong hold on Eragon, who has a strong hold on the Varden, you can help me stop the Varden without a giant war."

"I-I…" Murtagh shook his head in confusion. He had ventured for years with hatred in his heart. But he seemed to realize that they were false.

"I-I accept your offer."

"Thank you, Murtagh. Without you, the Dragon lineage shall end. I hope to create a world where the Dragon Riders are not king, but guardians. I will ensure that they do not fall, for as long as I live, they will not fall. But you, Saphira will not mate with my Dragon, but what of yours?"

"I…"

"Murtagh, I have a dragon that is yours. I know more of Dragon lore than any Rider ever knew or wanted to know. I can tell that this dragon is yours. Murtagh, you are a Dragon Rider."

"What! But, I-"

Galbatorix sensed Murtagh was happy to accept, and did not press. "Good, I will show you your egg soon. But first, Murtagh, you must know."

"Know what?"

"Murtagh, Eragon was the son of Morzan and Selena."

Murtagh's eyes burst in shock. The son of Morzan and Selena…

"But, that means, Eragon is my brother."

"Yes, Murtagh, he is your brother. How fit is it that two brothers should bring this kingdom to prosperity? Murtagh, you _must_ persuade Eragon to join us, to see the truth. Can you do that, after I have trained you?"

Murtagh hesitated. "Yes, I will."


	4. Chapter 4 Murtagh Learns

'Disclaimer: _The philosophy of magic that Galbatorix possesses is entirely my own thoughts and ponderings. If they should match CP's explanation, I have not in any way seen the 3__rd__ book or know CP himself._

There was nothing he could do.

The Twins claimed, somewhat sneeringly, that they would train. Murtagh would not accept that. If he had accepted to Galbatorix's terms then Galbatorix would train him, not these fools.

Nevertheless, despite a ferocious argument, Murtagh knew when the fight was over. It was no point. He had called for Galbatorix to show himself, but he had refused. For now, he must abide by the Twins.

"Good," the Twins said, "now that you understand your…position in things, let us begin."

They were training in the dining chamber which Murtagh had first arrived in. The Twins flourished towards a bowl, filled with liquid. "Galbatorix has instructed us to teach you in this manner, so in a way, he is teaching you…Now, you must grab the stick in the middle of the water. That is your first task."

Murtagh snorted in disbelief. "A stick? That's-"

The Twins grinned maliciously. "Oh, just try. Think before you speak, that is also a lesson for you."

Murtagh sighed. He would have to content himself with this measly training for now. When Galbatorix finally showed his true powers, then he would be satisfied. After his training is complete, he would seek out Eragon. He had not forgotten Eragon's friendship, and their secret filial relationship could only strengthen it. Nevertheless, he had to persuade Eragon.

The Varden could not be trusted.

Murtagh continued forward, walking up to the bowl's rim. In the clear liquid, a stick lay beneath, sunk in its depths. Murtagh frowned, and then plunged his hand into the water.

"Ah!" Murtagh snapped his hand out of the water. It was colder than ice, yet remained a liquid. Murtagh shivered in pain as his hand grew numb from the water.

"Are you insane? This water is madly cold!"

The Twins burst out laughing. "I do not see what Galbatorix sees in you. You are an idiot."

Murtagh motioned to attack them, but the Twins stopped him. "We did not say you had to get the stick with your bare hands!"

Murtagh could not believe his stupidity. Obviously, he should have tested the water's temperature, and then carried forth. Looking around, he saw nothing that could help him. Suddenly, he wondered if the bowl would tip over. It was only sitting on a stone pedestal, it should be easy. Murtagh smiled; it was obvious.

With a flourish, Murtagh pushed the bowl.

It did not move.

Murtagh frowned and pushed harder, yet the bowl would not move. A flare of anger suddenly burst in Murtagh. As easily as it had come, it disappeared. Murtagh was surprised at his lack of control.

Perhaps if he had a stick of some sort… There was a metal prong nearby, the use of which Murtagh did not know. However, it suited his purpose.

Behind him, the Twins giggled at Murtagh's foolishness.

Murtagh walked over to get the prong, and then walked back, sticking the prong into the water. Nothing happened. Encouraged, Murtagh plunged it deeper and deeper.

However, no matter how far Murtagh plunged the prong, he could not reach the stick. The prong was nearly completely submerged, and yet, the stick seemed so far away. It was as if the prong had not even been plunged in. Yet, as he drew the prong out, it retained its entire length.

"What! This is…" Murtagh looked at the bowl. It was barely taller than his hand, while the prong was nearly as long as his body and legs. Anger burst within him again. This was ridiculous! He had to put up with this madness.

"What kind of trick is this…This is impossible!" he shouted.

The Twins giggled even more. "Fool! Galbatorix is not training you in menial labor. Think!"

Magic…he had to use magic. But he did not know how! Murtagh felt like killing the Twins for giving him such a ridiculous task. Alagaesia were close to war and he had to fetch a stick out of a bowl! He could not control himself, and shouted out loud.

"Galbatorix! You traitorous, old fool, what kind of damned trick is this!"

Murtagh flung out at the bowl, but smashed his hand with a resounding crack. Murtagh faced the bowl and screamed in anger. He could feel his blood filled with anger and energy. If only the damned stick would fly out!

And then, Murtagh watched in awe as the stick flew out…and landed in his hand.

Murtagh stared at the stick as if it were something hideous. However, the face of terror suddenly faded, and a face of smugness replaced it. He had performed magic - his first step.

"You foolish Twins! I have-"

"Do not pride yourself. You have only performed a small feat." The Twins interrupted, clearly angered.

"We shall show you true power!" The Twins flung their arms at Murtagh. Suddenly, Murtagh felt as if a massive force had crushed him. The force lifted him and flung him into the wall.

A crack split the air as Murtagh cracked his arm against the wall. Murtagh screamed in agony. "Ahh!!!!!!!!!"

"You shall learn to obey your teachers!" the Twins retorted.

Murtagh could feel the anger building inside him, the spring ready to burst in boiling anger. But Murtagh could feel something else. In a part of his mind he did not know existed, he could feel his broken.

However, it was not the pain that he felt. It was as if the arm was not his, and he could sense the distortion that the broken arm made. Murtagh concentrated on this distortion, and used his mind to smooth it out, flatten the corrugations. In an instant, Murtagh felt his arm snap back together.

Stunned, Murtagh looked at his arm. The flesh had completely healed. There was no sign of injury.

So this was magic…

He looked towards the Twins. There was a look of surprise on their face. Clearly they had not anticipated such swift learning.

The Twins narrowed their eyes. Suddenly, Murtagh could sense, could feel their mind soundlessly churning a spell. Before they could react, Murtagh reacted himself. He delved into the very thought of the spell and crushed it.

The Twins gasped and collapsed as if struck down by a sword. Murtagh smiled.

"Very good, you have learned magic very well." the Twins said. "However, it is only the basics that you have learned."

Before Murtagh could sense anything, the Twins had crushed him under a spell. He could not think, he could see or feel. He was blind, deaf and alive at the same time. A brutal assault of pain built in Murtagh's mind. He fell to his knees and bowed down in agony. There was no sense that he could abide by, no instinctive feeling.

Suddenly, a sword pierced his mind and he screamed soundlessly in pain. The world grew dark, and Murtagh fainted.

" "

"Galbatorix, we are deeply sorry. We were only trying to-"

"What? Kill him? I told you, he is a novice. Never, ever use mind games again, or you shall feel my own mind games. Understand?"

Murtagh rolled over. Something sharp stabbed his side and Murtagh jumped up, adrenaline coursing through him. However, it was a only a fork that he had rolled atop of.

"He is awake."

Murtagh turned towards the speakers. Galbatorix was here.

"How are you?" Galbatorix asked. "These imbeciles can not control themselves."

"I'm fine." Murtagh remembered the Twins torture. "The Twins are fools. How-"

"Do not worry. If you are fine, I must be off." Galbatorix suddenly disappeared, gone.

Murtagh turned towards the Twins. "You two are fools. One day, you will feel the agony that I felt."

The Twins were still fearful of Galbatorix. They merely nodded. "Training shall continue tomorrow." The Twins walked off, leaving Murtagh alone.

Apprehension gripped Murtagh. The pain he had felt was tremendous. "Mind games…" they had said. Was the pain really in his mind only?

He could not go another day without some sort of defense. Murtagh climbed onto a chair and sat there, meditating. A voice probed into his mind. "Listen, and learn."

Murtagh opened his eyes. There was no one there. So he had indeed heard it in his mind…The thought amazed yet disturbed him. If his mind was not safe, nothing would be safe. Murtagh further strengthened his resolution to fortify his mind.

Once again, Murtagh meditated, trying to listen. However, no matter how hard he tried, he could not hear anything. The chamber of Galbatorix was silent, immobile. He closed his eyes.

Darkness drifted in, a malleable yet amorphous darkness. His mind began to drift away. It was like a part of him separated from his mind. He was part of himself, yet aware of everything. His body felt immobile as his eyelids drooped closed.

An eagle screeched in the night air. It encircled the mountain, searching for its nest above the clouds. Murtagh felt its desire to reach home, its fragility. The beginnings of a storm had begun, and the eagle began to panic. A gust of wind blew it off course. Suddenly, Murtagh felt a piercing fear from the eagle. Murtagh not only felt, but understood the bird's fear. A part of him that was not him morphed with the bird. It was as if his mind could think like an eagle and see like one. In his mind, he saw the mountain and the swirling clouds of darkness. The part of him delved even deeper inside the bird, inside the inside of its mind. He could not only feel the fear, but the source of fear and fear. It was not the eagle's fear that he understood now, but it fear itself – the very emotion of fear.

Murtagh burst back from the eagle's mind. However, it was as if Murtagh brought back a piece of the bird. He could feel a difference in his mind. No… it was not the bird. He had brought back the very essence of fear and understood its mechanics in his mind. 

In an instant, the floodgates of love, hate, anger, lust and the deep mechanics of the mind flooded in him. He understood how they wove together and formed patterns, life. The pulsing of emotions and the thoughts of life opened towards him. Suddenly, Murtagh understood it all. He understood the truth of reality, the truth of magic.

Murtagh burst awake. It was morning. He did not sense it, but knew it. A sense indescribable had awakened, but Murtagh also knew it was not a sense, but more of knowledge, knowledge of reality.

"You have awakened at last…"

"Galbatorix, I can feel it, understand it now."

"Yes, in the span of a week, you have mastered far more than the Twins, far more than Eragon, far more than even I have learned in a week."

"Where are you?"

"Ah, so you can truly understand. I am in my chambers. Come, if you can."

Murtagh opened his eyes. Galbatorix was nowhere to be seen, but a part of his mind wandered through what could be deemed reality, and found Galbatorix. Murtagh could see waves that were not material pass through the air like faint wisps of light. Murtagh grasped a wisp…

"Excellent," Galbatorix spoke, "you have truly mastered it."

Murtagh no longer stood in the dining chamber, but stood in Galbatorix's very own chambers. It was a Spartan room, but overlaid with the thoughts and taints that Galbatorix had put here. To Murtagh, it was decorated more than any palace could be.

"So you see the thoughts that have imprinted themselves here. Excellent. Murtagh, do you have any questions?"

Murtagh hand learned many things, but one question eluded him. "Why, why am I not restricted by the same physical bond that Eragon is? I've seen the wear that magic bears on him…"

"There, Murtagh, is where you see our true understanding. Ours alone, and soon to be your brother's as well.

"I will explain how our understanding works, Murtagh. It took years for me to understand, but you have the benefit of a mentor. But alas Murtagh, you must first find your Dragon. I believe you already know where it is."

Murtagh frowned for an instant, and then understand. He could feel a certain wave, a pattern that drew him. Murtagh altered the wave, and a crystal rock suddenly appeared in his hand. Murtagh gasped at the rock's - egg's - beauty. He had felt its wondrous power, but he could not see its beauty with his mind.

The crystal was adorned with earth that had been crystallized and hardened. With a flourish, he removed the earth.

Underneath, the ruby egg shone like the dawn. As he peered at it, Murtagh could see the very power of the sun inside; he could understand the flare of fire and power that emanated from the sun; he could see the brilliance of the sun reflected in the sole beauty of an egg.

The egg cracked open and burned his hand. Murtagh jerked his hand and yelped in pain. He had not known this would happen. As he looked at his hand, a white spot appeared. Murtagh had seen Eragon with one, but had not understood. Now he did.

"This thing is so useless. I do not need it to channel my power…But-"

"But you saw Eragon with it? Correct? Indeed, there is the limitation of the Riders of old. I would explain it to you now, but your egg has hatched."

Murtagh had nearly forgotten. He looked at the egg, or what was left of the egg. The shell had disappeared, and a red dragon lay in his palm. It was no larger than his hand, but he could feel its power, its potential. Moreover, he understood the intricacies of the Dragon's mind and its own capacity to grasp reality. _I am Murtagh._

_Young one, we have finally met…_

_You are so small, yet so old. You understand so much._

_I am surprised. It is rare for one such as young as you to understand so deeply. I can understand your own understanding of the world. My name is Thorn._

_Hello, Thorn._


End file.
